


the right company

by TiaFoyz



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18242951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiaFoyz/pseuds/TiaFoyz
Summary: In the midst of the impending snow storm, Daryl and Connie find warmth in a cabin for the night.





	the right company

**Author's Note:**

> It's been so long since I wrote fanfic I don't even remember what I should be writing in an author's note. I guess this would be sometime during 9x16... but since we haven't seen it yet, it's just an obscure hope.

“I’mma stay here for the night, then. I’ll wait for the next group to catch up and bring ‘em along,” Daryl says it through a nod, his determination evident. He’s a man that, once his mind has been made up, it’s immovable. Carol knows this, knows his current posture all too well to put up a fruitless argument, and she’s too tired – physically and emotionally – to put up a proper argument. 

“It’s gonna be too cold to stay the night out here.” 

“Nah,” with a nod over his left shoulder, he squints in the direction of a heavily wooded area, “there’s a cabin ‘bout a half mile out. And it won’t be the first storm I spend out here on my own.” Carol goes to speak again, is about to remind him that they can’t be sure how bad it’ll get, but Daryl beats her to the punch, gesturing to Dog with an elbow, “’Sides, I got him to keep me warm.”

Connie emerges silently, taking an increasingly familiar stance at Daryl’s side. She signs, “Me too,” and even if the group hadn’t been catching onto ASL since their exposure in the last while, her meaning is clear.

Daryl has learned there’s no point in arguing it.

He steps over to the cart, unloading one of the bags along with a thick wool blanket. It’s more than enough for the two of them to make it through a single night, and their staying behind to meet the next group is what he needs to feel he’s done his duty.

There isn’t much time to linger, so Carol’s group is off after a brief goodbye and well-wishes. Connie and Daryl are left standing behind in growing inches of pure white snow. “C’mon,” Daryl demands from Dog, starting off in the direction of the cabin without another word. The truth is, he’s grateful for the human company after what they’d all been through in the last week. Connie follows in his steps, her shorter legs straining to have footfalls that match his stride. Her silence is comfortable. It reminds Daryl of the hours he’d spent tracking with Rick into dark hours, long after conversation had died or become unnecessary. It’s a stark contrast to the days he spent with Beth, who seemingly never knew the value of quiet.

Dog circles around the cabin before the others have made it to the door, sniffing around the perimeter before returning back to Daryl’s side to signal his canine approval. They’ve been doing this for long enough now that Daryl knows he doesn’t have to hesitate before clearing the snow from in front of the door with a boot, pushing into the abandoned building without concern for what might lay on the other side. 

“You wanna get a fire going?” he asks. There’s a beat of no response. Daryl is getting better at this, but he’s still learning, and it takes him a second before he realizes Connie couldn’t see his mouth, and therefore doesn’t know he’s said a word. With a shift to face her, he repeats the question, watches her scan the room for the fireplace before she moves right over to begin. Daryl heads back out the door to gather more firewood and check the security of the rickety windows. 

It’s twenty minutes later when he returns, kicking off the snow from his boots the best he can so it doesn’t track inside. Connie has a fire going, and a can of beans heated up. Dog is curled calmly next to the flames. They don’t speak while they settle down on the blanket with food, nor do they exchange any words until they’ve finished eating. It takes her a minute to write out what she’s thinking, but Daryl waits patiently and somewhat curiously, taking the outstretched notebook only when it’s been offered.

You spent last winter outside of a community?

“Yeah,” he nods, glancing over to Dog and then shrugging lightly. “Well, I had ‘im, and I checked in when I could.”

You like being alone? She shows him the page this time, instead of handing the whole pad over.

Dark eyes move slowly from the page up to Connie’s eyes; Daryl’s trying to gage whether or not she’s already decided on his answer. He hesitates for as long as he can get away with, eventually lifting his shoulder in another noncommittal shrug of indifference. Connie sees that he doesn’t intend to give a proper answer, so she taps a fingertip against the paper. 

Daryl huffs out a defeated breath and follows it with, “Depends who the company is, I guess.” 

“What about me?” Connie signs this time. It takes him a second, but he’s been picking up on it quicker than most.

His right hand raises with the classic symbol for “OK”, a gentle nod to accompany. “You’re not bad,” he tells her, chin ducking against his chest when he feels heat rising to his cheeks. He doesn’t catch the smile that graces her lips, hair falling over his eyes where there might have been a clear view.

Once his side of the awkwardness has settled, they talk for a while about the next day’s plan. They talk about Carol and Henry, and some of Connie’s lost friends. It’s easy and it’s comfortable, but it isn’t long before they both concede it’s time to get some sleep. When Daryl tries to hand over their one blanket, Connie’s expression is unmistakable. It’s plenty big enough for them both. He shakes his head, adamant, “Nah, you take it.”

Connie reaches for her notepad once again, the aggression in her handwriting evidenced in hard, solid letters. I don’t bite.

She lays down first, facing the small fire with Dog at her feet. Daryl paces in a circle, eventually plopping himself down at her back and laying on his own, spine as stiff as a board. He settles for being half-covered by the blanket, refusing to invade too much of the woman’s personal space. She doesn’t wait too long before shuffling backward, gently reaching for his hand and encouraging him into a spooning position. Daryl doesn’t relax, but he doesn’t object. He can’t remember for the life of him the last time he was this close to another human being, but it doesn’t feel entirely wrong. And it’s warm. 

The clamouring in his chest eventually settles and the tension that had kept his fingers off of her body even while his palm found respite on her hip slowly dissipates. Their breathing naturally falls in sync. 

Connie falls asleep long before Daryl’s even considered it. She isn’t quick to trust, but there’s something about being in this man’s arms that makes her feel invincible. It’s an hour or longer before he, too, drifts toward a shallow unconsciousness. 

He jolts awake when the wind blows the door open with an abrasive squeal. She awakens just as quickly as a result of his sudden movement. Daryl is on his feet in a flash, already telling Dog to ‘hush’. He’s almost positive it’s only the storm, but he offers Connie a look of reassurance before taking the trek out just to be sure. It’s only a minute or so and then he’s back to find Connie crouching down at the fire, encouraging its flame a little bigger and warming her hands in the process. It’s cold now that they aren’t sharing body heat. He grabs up the blanket and moves to wrap it around her shoulders, knowing it will be a while before he can settle back to sleep. 

“Thank you,” Connie signs.

Daryl nods, still holding the blanket around her. He’d almost bet she’s thanking him for more than just the blanket, but he’s never been very good at any of this. 

Moving onto her knees, she shifts around to face him better, one hand moving up to glide along his jaw. Daryl doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t pull away. He just keeps holding the blanket in place, eyes glued to those in front of him. 

It’s as though she can sense the increase in his heart rate, and she takes it as encouragement. Drawing in closer, Connie gives him plenty of time to stop her if he’d like. When he doesn’t, she takes the initiative to brush her lips over his own, barely making any contact. There’s a shaking exhale that moves from his mouth; she feels it, and if he didn’t lean in just slightly, she might have taken it as a hint to back away. For an extended moment, everything is still but their breathing. It’s Daryl who ultimately tightens his grip on the edges of the wool blanket, having defeated a few of his inner demons in the silence between them, and makes the decision to encourage the woman’s lips back to his own. Both of her palms easily find the sides of his face, her slender frame edging toward him until he has no choice but to surrender his hold on the material and reposition large hands – one to the small of her back and the other to the nape of her neck. 

The heat that rises between them creates an urgency neither of them remembered could exist, but Daryl’s motions are careful and calculated, their kiss deepening without gaining too much speed. A low growl when their tongues meet has Connie moving one hand down to the leather of his belt. His hips press forward, fingers tangling into the curls that mimic her attitude. 

Daryl’s voice is gruff with desire when he breaks the kiss, whispering, “I ain’t done this in a long time.”

Connie isn’t entirely sure she’s caught what he said clearly with the darkness and their close proximity, but she’s able to fill in the blanks and, withdrawing her hands from his body, she signs, “I know,” and gives a reassuring nod. 

He moves back to her lips, kisses her more languidly now. It shallows into a chaste series of affectionate pecks that trail over her cheek before he draws back. Her eyes are locked on his lips to read his next words: “I wanna do this right.” 

“Me too,” she returns, and it’s her turn to lower her eyes in some amount of embarrassment over their initial excitement, shaking her head with a silent laugh.

Daryl grins, admiring each of her features in the flickering light of the fire. He drops a kiss onto Connie’s forehead, and another at her temple, snagging the blanket to pull her back down into their sleeping position. Finding slumber is easier this time, their hands wrapped in a knot of interlaced fingers. He toes one foot between her own, wilfully invading as much of her space as is comfortable. There’s a hum of excitement in the air, a promise of new beginnings and of enduring attachment. Without discussing it, somehow they both understand that there’s no need to rush. They’ve got plenty of time.

**Author's Note:**

> Please shoot me your reviews! Do you ship these two?! Do you think they have a future?


End file.
